Life Goes On
by killura
Summary: Seth Rollins is a new teacher with his career on the mind, and nobody is going to get in the way of his success. Dean Ambrose is a loser in his English class, and he frankly can't stand the little shit. The boy who starts out as a pity-project soon becomes a big part of Seth's life, but Dean's instability might be more than either one of them can handle [AU]
1. Prologue: Know Your Enemy

**[Life Goes On]  
****[Prologue: Know your Enemy]**

* * *

As a teacher, even in his first year, Seth was pretty convinced that he could read the mind of his students. He had trouble getting them down at first, but after listening to the advice of some mentors, he found it was pretty easy to understand these young adults.

They all had a flare for the melodramatic, and you could get along if you humored them enough; they were kind of like cats in an odd way. Some older faculty warned him of enabling those young and underdeveloped minds but Seth's concern was his success the long run, not of the kids. He couldn't actually say that in front of anyone, but...

Kids seemed to like him if he pretended to take them as seriously as they took themselves.

Even so, Seth Rollins was floored at their flair for the dramatics.

The first day of school, he had handed out one of that standard 'G_et to know me'_-questionnaire print-outs; the ones with lines for kids names and what they went by, their age –basic stuff. He'd included a section for personal interests and favorites – he'd learned some kids were really out there; they'd convinced themselves they were '_a different kind of person_' than anyone else in their 600 strong graduation class.

He got a kick out of the kids who claimed they were actually wolves; said they wanted a career in YouTube videos… but the real kickers were the ones bordering on narcissistic.

One kid in particular, when given the option to explain how others had described him in the past, had written three words:

_Feral; Immortal... probably._

Based on other answers he 'd given, he was just trying to be a problematic little shit, but it seemed he'd honest-to-god thought into that answer, based on all the rough eraser marks under those deep pencil strokes

One "Dean Ambrose" seemed to be a snarky little fucker who - if Seth was correct- would be the first ever Love/Hate relationship he'd ever taken part in.

He had hoping to go through his first year without either.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm actually really nervous about this one - it's probably going to be more personal than anything I've written in a very long time. To make it clear, there is _not_ going to be a romantic or sexual relationship between these two at any point during the story, no matter what Dean implies. If it does happen, it won't be presented in a healthy or stable light for reasons explained later in the fic. I am not going to romanticize a relationship like that.

As always, I would very much appreciate any kind of commentary you have to offer.


	2. Chapter One: Discipline

**[Life Goes On]**  
**[Chapter One: Discipline]**

* * *

Arrogant or not, the kid was a bum. In the mind of Seth Rollins, he was the worst kind of loser – the kind that made it look enviable, and as if he was doing the world a favor by not taking part in it.

He knew he was supposed to help all the kids in his class, but this kid didn't need help… well, he did - he needed discipline, and he needed it bad. At this point it wasn't unusual to hear other adults go on about certain students who would've turned out better if their parents had spanked them as kids. Seth didn't believe in corporal punishment, but...

But, damn, this kid brought out the worst kind of person in Seth.

See, school had already been in session for a month, and he had this kid pinned. Dean Ambrose was a kid who could be getting straight A's if he got off his ass, but got away without doing so because he had every single person convinced he couldn't do any better than he currently was.

He'd already had talks with other kids about living up to their potential – Alicia Fox, for example, was a very smart girl who was too smart for her own good. Her grades sucked because she wasn't challenged enough – she thought this work was beneath her.

Kids like her and Bo Dallas took great joy in having someone tell them they had endless potential; that they were special and could go as far as they wanted if they tried even a little bit –all Mr. Rollins had to do was remind them they knew they were better than what they were giving. These students hid his smirks every time he called them to his desk to have silent conversations about the effort they weren't putting in.

They reveled in the attention – in knowing that people knew they were better than someone else. They just needed somebody to push them. Now, Seth Rollins didn't mind being that guy. He _would be_ that guy because letting them slip through the cracks would be seen as his failure; not theirs.

Dean Ambrose had flat out ignored getting called to the front, because nobody could actually tell when he was truly asleep – curled up in a hoodie with an arm hanging off his desk and into an aisle. And when he _had_ gotten Dean to stay after class, the fifteen year old had done the most annoying thing yet.

_He ran._

"Do you know why I called you up after class, Dean?"

Dean was obviously still waking up at the time of the conversation – he was at least polite enough to hold back a yawn and pretended to care. "Uh, it's mid… mid-phase… those three-week review things."

Seth was amused, despite himself. It would almost be cute, were he not dealing with a sophomore (junior?) in high school. "Yes, I want to talk to you about 'those things', Dean."

"Cool… can I have it?" He was reaching out, obviously waiting for his grade-sheet. He was _not _getting off that easily.

The papers were, instead, dropped in more frustration than even Seth knew he was capable of. "Alright, first of all – you don't try to grab something from someone with a hoodie, and—"

"This is my hand, coach."

"No, your hoodie's _covering _your palm and you have never succeeded in picking up anything handed to you in this class when that thing is covering your hand. You are too old for this, Dean."

"But I did yesterday—"

"Hyperbole, Ambrose! It's hyperbole!"

"I dunno what that means, sir."

Seth was going to strangle him – the boy had answered a question on a test about the definition of the fucking word on his fucking test three days ago.

Instead, he was the adult – he had to breathe in, breathe out, and count to three. "Dean… Your grades are all over the place. You do – what? - one in three assignments?"

"Sorry, coach."

"No, you're not – the stuff you turn in is always top-tier. AP-Level stuff!"

Dean rubbed the back of his head, intently avoiding eye contact. "Yeah?"

"Yeah! And it's always your writing assignments that are really well-done, so if you can grasp these concepts enough to apply them, why can't you get multiple choice questions on simple punctuation?"

The boy shrugged, averting his gaze to the teacher's desk. He was getting twitchy, but he always got twitchy whenever he was called on anything – another student had asked his name the first day of class, and Seth had seen him fidget and hesitate, Seeing the exchange made Seth realize he liked it better when Ambrose got mouthy. He'd learned from the kid's writing that he was quite the smart-ass, even.

Seth stood, running a hand through his hair. "Dean, I see you finish all that work in class," he paused at this point, expecting an argument of semantics; he was waiting for Dean to tell him he didn't finish _all_ his assignments in class. When none came Seth had to work to reorganize his thoughts. ""Look, Dean – I see you finish all these assignments – I've seen you pull out completed homework assignments, and instead of turning them in you just… carry them off. Do you need help getting organized or something? We can work on that."

Dean froze, looking like a deer in headlights; but rather than answering, he shrugged. Seth was pretty sure he had gotten a shade paler in a few seconds time.

"Dean there's nothing wrong with that. If you need help, that's fine. You're a smart kid and you can get the grades."

Dean shook his head quickly, talking fast while occasionally darting his eyes to the open door. "Nah, I can do better, Coach. I'm just spacy. I'll start carrying a folder for this class. I promise!"

And with that, he bolted.

* * *

Indeed, Dean had started carrying a folder with him – he'd gotten organized. He even made a point of using it in front of Mr. Rollins. The kicker came when his turned-in classwork dropped from an average of one-in-three to one-in-seven… not that Mr. Rollins was paying attention to that sort of thing. It was just an estimate.

He took a willing backslide, and he was always bolting before getting called on it again - the few times Seth had gotten frustrated enough to call him on it in front of the class, the boy had simply scratched his head. No other acknowledgement.

The little shit was making an effort to stay a loser. He _wanted_ to fail, and Seth's pride could never allow that to pass.

* * *

**Authors Note: **This chapter reads a bit awkward... sorry! As always, reviews and criticism would be great! I promise the story will speed up soon.


	3. Chapter Two: Too Early to Tell

**[Life Goes On]  
****[Chapter Two: Too Early to Tell]  
**

* * *

Wise men know routines are for chumps. Unfortunately, Seth Rollins had gotten his ass all nice and comfy since school had begun three months ago.

Adults with degrees weren't awarded with nice things like routines. Seth was barely awarded with things like money.

Seth knew it was going to be bad when he rushed through the hallways well into the first fifteen minutes of school, pulled out his keys, and… found his classroom door to be unlocked; not only unlocked, but wide open with the lights on. This was a _very_ bad sign.

See, there had already been… problems, this year. Some of the upper-slash-lower administration thought Seth had a bad attitude – to which he said "_fuck them"_ quietly in a place they were not. He had a nice setup of a Holy Trinity, so to speak; no classes 1st'; 5th and 9th period – he could come late, leave early, and the perfect mid-day break…. _If_ he timed everything perfectly.

He had gotten lazy, at some point. About a month ago, he had invoked the wrath of a certain man he did not want to cross. Ever since, he'd been watching his back and today proved it had been necessary.

Inside, sitting on Seth's desk, was a very powerful man – at what had to be at least 255 lbs, he was the school's principal; Seth's boss, and an old family friend – rolled up into on giant ball of manly man

Not _at_ his desk; _on_ his desk and Seth was not boozed enough for anything coming… including the monster hug his boss wrapped him in; apparently unaware of any report he had as a monster among students and most staff. "Sethie, how have you been, buddy?"

Seth could already feel the boot physically taking shape in his ass.

"Under-caffeinated for your presence, sir. Please don't call me that."

"Naah, I could call you Tyl? People hate their middle names – It's why nobody knows mine."

"Right, just… call me that quietly? _Please_?" Seth had to rub his temples after plopping into his desk chair. It was a mystery why a former bouncer was such a morning person… hell; it was a mystery how a bouncer became the principal of a high school in the first place. Some said he had a degree and an easy in through marriage, but it turned out he was more competent than his father-in-law. "Anyway, why are you here?"

"Because," Hunter smirked, situating more comfortably on Seth's desk because he could crush a student's if he weren't careful enough. "You weren't."

He got a _thrawp! _to the head with an obnoxiously heavy set of keys.

"You were slacking, man; you're _still_ slacking."

Seth let his forehead fall onto his desk. "Give the lecture and then tell me what I did so I'll be awake for the important parts?"

"Alright? Have I given you My Cena/Orton speech?"

"Please, not again..."

"It's an Administration favorite, though! I'm a nice guy, so I'll paraphrase: See, the real problem is that you imitate Orton – he may be a great coach and get special treatment for it but he is _not_ a guy you want to imitate as an employee. Didn't anyone on staff tell you to listen to Cena instead?"

Seth's face construed. "But he's so annoying."

"But there's a reason why he's been around for so long – hell, he'll probably get tenure, knowing that asshole. _He_ doesn't forge timesheets; _he_ teaches what the state requires as begrudgingly as he's supposed to, and _he_ turns in student's grades and attendance charts. Among other things…"

Hunter took a long sip from his iced coffee and sighed. "Does that hurt?"

"You have… no idea, sir."

"Good, because that was all for me, and you just sucked all the fun right all of it," with a forced sigh, Hunter cleared his throat and straightened his collar. "On a more serious note, this next part is going to suck a lot less for you than someone else."

_That's a first._

Shaking himself out of the urge to snark his boss, Seth waited, and Hunter did not disappoint. "Remember when I first told you why two months of ignoring attendance sheets was so important?" He did not wait for a answer. "Normally it's just because the system is really anal, but sometimes something really shitty can happen?"

Three seconds of silence led to Seth's nod. He knew it wasn't his time to speak.

"Glad you remember, because now I'm going to amend the statement - when people do their _jobs_," his throat was cleared, "cracks in the systems are sometimes missed - by not doing yours, you've brought to light a very… strange, case."

Knowing there was no way in Hell that was a thank you or an apology (or that he would get an explanation as to why him not doing his job would be a big deal – he'd come to find second period attendance is all anyone cared about), Seth went the safe route of asking what that was. Surely, it had to be very big to get Sir Principal's attention!

"Dean Ambrose -"

_Of fucking course._

" - English III, I think? Not important to me, in the long run – important to _you_ in the long run. The kid's going to be moving to your 8th period class as of next Monday."

Uncaffiienated, it took was still taking Seth a while to process - Dean Ambrose was still not his favorite - still his least favprite actually, but maybe he… No, come to think of it, he hadn't seen Ambrose in a long time.

It was kinda' nice.

In fact, he'd forgotten Ambrose on purpose - class had run pretty smoothly without him - the normal productive kids weren't uncomfortable - he had started fights with a few, and Seth didn't feel as if he was witnessing some sort of backdoor criminal activity every time Dean talked to anyone else. Dean was a bit of a space case, and some students liked him for it - once a student next to him mentioned being $2 short for McDonald's and Dean handed him a $20 like it was nothing.

At the beginning of the year, the kids would try to give the bills back, but Dean would already be back in his own head. There were other kids, though… Dean saw right through them; they could talk to him for an hour and he wouldn't say a word to them; wouldn't acknowledge their existence outside of blank stares. The days Ambrose came to school, he had two modes.

Dean had _Fight_, or Dean had _Flight_.

Seth had forgotten him on purpose - so when he'd missed over a month of class over a six week period, he didn't think much of it - didn't want to, even.

Hesitantly, Seth threw out a question, knowing he was fishing. "Is he sick?"

Another _Thrawp! _to the head led Seth to miss a look of doubt on the face of his mentor – Mr. Helmseley didn't know the answer to the question himself – only that Dean had been for a long while. "Dumbass. Your English III is 2nd and 3rd period - what's your 7th and 8th?"

_Never caffeinated enough._

"...Freshmen."

"Bingo."

"That's... How the fuck is Ambrose being pulled back two years mid-semester?"

Hunter sighed, smiling sympathetically. "That, Tyler, is a long story... don't worry, though - your class is affected so you'll be attending the parent/teacher conference about it... hell, maybe you'll even meet his Mother... God help us."

Kids were piling in by the time Seth had run this through his head. "I feel like I deserve more of an explanation."

Hunter grinned. "Oh, Sethie – We can only tell you as much as Dean and his family wants us to know – you should know how student's rights go?" Yet another jab. "But don't worry –you'll know as much as anyone else if you can manage to be early, for once."

_Ass._

Without missing a beat, he was off the desk, seemingly unaware of students giving him a two feet radius walkways as he left the room.

Seth made it a point to take roll-call that day; Dean was, as expected, out for the day.

* * *

I am so sorry for a lack of updates! It means a whole lot that people have PM'd me asking about new chapters… I'm very sorry chapters are arriving a lot later than I said they would.

It will speed up next chapter I promise. The next set of updates are planned, even!

As always, reviews are very much appreciated!


	4. Chapter Three: Favors and Punishments

**[Life Goes On]  
****[Chapter Three: Favours and Punishments]  
**

* * *

Being a newbie to teaching, Seth had only sat through a handful of meetings to talk about disciplinary actions _with _a student in attendance; he'd been through quite a bit more towards the beginning of the year to go over individual student's accommodation lists during his class periods… something he, admittedly, was not very good at respecting if they weren't necessary in physically apparent ways.

This was one of those sessions he hadn't attended, yet – it was for a student who needed both heavy disciplinary action but with a mix of heavy consideration to something he… wasn't quite sure about.

There were only two trained psychologists the school actually employed – a young woman named Renee Young, and an old-fashioned and well-feared man who was just known by his students "_Heyman_".

Dr. Heyman, as far as everyone else had the balls to go with, was known for building up the roughest cases in the crudest, sometimes morally-questionable, ways most school-districts no longer went for. Renee, on the other hand, was new (and new-age!), and therefore handed students with issues that extended beyond rebellion. To be honest, his only knowledge of her was limited to her presentations during an orientation sometime late summer for staff.

She _had_ left quite an impression, though. He'd discussed it with Randy, who never talked about work off-shift; they'd narrowed the first-time impression to three phrases: _Great Public Speaker; has a strange warmth that makes you want to like her, _and the most important _Probably like an 8 – maybe a 9 off of work?_

Though new to the school, Dean gave off an impression of being well-acquainted with both doctors, but Miss Young was the only one there for today – which was good, because Seth had a feeling there was more going on with Ambrose than he'd wanted to think about... at the same time, he doubted it was that big a deal. The school system, in his mind, was all-too willing to let people pass by with an easy excuse and a wave of the hand.

His doubts would keep him from listening very well during the coming hours – which, as a result, would keep him from hearing phrases like _schizophrenia _being used.

Absent-mindlessly, he'd found his way to the conference room – one of the mid-sized ones with those nice, arm-rest leather chairs with high backs and not-too-cheap coffee machines in the corner. It was obviously Hunter's favorite of the rooms of the admin. offices, not counting his own seeing how well taken care of it was. Seth didn't mind. Not in the least. The meeting wasn't too large – there were four other teachers – all of them teachers of core-credit classes for both juniors and freshmen, probably to simplify the process.

Within fifteen minutes, the meeting had started, and Seth felt little need to pay attention to words and details.

After it was explained why Dean was a year and-a-half short of credits and everyone had yet to notice Seth had earned that his suspicions were 2/3rd correct, and most of Ambrose's missed time from school was him being a self-admitted lazy, rebellious waste of space… though that last part was not in his words…

Admittedly, there was a pang of guilt when he learned some time was missed due to hospitalization, and that Dean would be moved to Seth's 8th/9th period class, he tuned out most of the meeting again– it didn't apply to him, and it gave him ample opportunity to decide if he was upset.

Not really – honestly, Seth didn't give enough of a fuck, one way or the other. Dean was a freshman instead of a junior – that sucked, but it wasn't his problem; he came into this meeting knowing there was nothing that would happen in this meeting to make his own life easier.

It took another 30 minutes to decide Dean was not allowed the luxury of credit recovery for sophomore English and History in place of his electives since he hadn't completed their preceding courses. Seth didn't care – not his problem; to be honest, he cared about as much as Dean, who was busy drawing on himself, using a pen to trace his veins. Once he got bored enough to look at the details of the meeting, Seth realized there was no sign of Dean's Mother… probably a good sign after Hunter's commentary.

Everything was going all too well – the few times Dean had started to mouth off, Hunter had shot him down each time, but every time Dean looked like he was practically getting off on the man'sattention, satiated with a small, lopsided smile after every scolding... Now that he thought about it, it was kind of weird that Dean would chose to sit next to the Alpha Male principal, rather than the counselor who could act as a Shield.

Sulking, Seth was now in a bad mood – Dean was fine with Hunter but he ignored Seth? Did he think he wasn't strong enough? Maybe not controlling enough? It's not like he hadn't made Dean bolt out of his classroom like a spooked animal…

Frankly, he was livid.

The meeting took a turn for the worst when a subject came up that both Dean and Seth thought had passed – Dean's truancy issues. While he hadn't missed enough school to have anything put on his record as a minor… not in this district, he had missed enough in general that his Mother, much to his agitation, and his old school district, had been working to find ways to make sure he made it into school every morning.

For the school, it started as a legal matter and then he turned into something horrible that had to be deprogramed; for the people who volunteered with schools for 'problem children', he was supposed to be a project – just another broken kid to fix; truancy officer, he was just a challenge; for his Mother… well, he was a problem child the district was willing to take care of in the mornings. Why not take advantage?

Problem is, Dean had outsmarted them… or at least out-stubborned them. There were a few times he completely disappeared from the area when he found out a truancy officer – who , to this day, Dean Ambrose would never admit that he couldn't differentiate from the police – was looking for him, he was gone.

Dean shrugged, tapping his wrist with his pen as eyes slowly tried to meet his for an explanation. "I developed a thing for camping."

There were various snorts throughout the room, probably the loudest from Hunter. Seth was not amused.

On the principal that this was Dean Ambrose making his life more difficult.

Vindication came when Renee continued her explanation. "Dean, they're right – you've caused your family enough trouble, and you know it. How many people have you caused trouble for? Do you really want to keep seeking attention this way?"

Her smile was small, but Seth saw how calculated – and effective – her words were on Dean. The moment she mentioned his family is the moment he stopped finally sat still and quiet.

"—Your Mother called earlier and asked for our help because she's worried about you—"

Dean shook his head repeatedly, licking his dry lips – silent words formed, but others came out. "No, no – I got this. I can come on my own, guys. Just uh – damn, just let me do this one more time, I promise."

Hunter cleared his throat taking over the conversation. Dean had taken the bait laid in the form of a guilt-trip, and so it was his turn to seal the deal; finally removing his hand from his chin, he grunted. "We've discussed the possibilities, and haven't been able to find anyone who is on this team and well-acquainted with Dean's conditions… so we're going to have to improvise for a short time."

With glee reserved for personal grudges, Hunter continued. "There is also the issue of finding somebody who is going to be able to come into classes or meetings late… a person doesn't have a schedule set up so early as school begins…" His eyes met Seth's; Seth's stomach dropped.

He knew where this was going.

Hunter had to be kidding.

This was a terrible idea.

Dean was as ready to protest as Seth, but Hunter silenced both of them with his palm. "No – Miss Young had evaluated Ambrose in classes, and he reacts best to Mister Rollins' –"

Again, both boys tried to protest with Dean turning a full beet red, but Hunter had control. "Mister Rollins has no first period class and, as far as I can tell, is as stubborn as Ambrose, here – he won't have to worry if there's a few hardships, y'know?"

Seth gulped, absolutely terrified. "You mean, like… just making sure he's in his first class, right?"

Hunter closed his eyes. "I think it would be more convenient for the both of you if you stopped by his house before you even came to work, but you two can work it out. If it would drive the point home - maybe it'll make the situation clear to Mr. Ambrose, you are to be babysat from the moment you leave your front door to the moment you step into your first period class."

This motherfucker is oh-so-fucking proud of himself.

Details were talked out while Seth tried to work out what had d just happened. As the meeting wrapped up, he watched Ambrose bolt – surprised when the kid stopped and muttered a choppy apology Seth could barely make out, and then waited for the office to clear.

Hunter waited until the office cleared to shake his hand. "So proud you didn't argue this – you're really growin' up, my boy. Really growing up! You're going to do great if you're this willing to help students succeed! Don't worry about your time clock in the mornings. We'll figure things out as we go."

Suddenly, Seth found himself yanked into the tightest hug the young man had ever experienced; by the time he knew what was happening, Hunter was stroking his hair while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. "_And next time you feel like covering for someone's inappropriate student relations, you sure as Hell better be ready to be treated as an employee and not my crying little nephew. This doesn't make us even, buddy."_

* * *

Okay! I promise this s the last chapter where Dean isn't going to be as big a focus as Seth... that does mean it's going to get a bit darker, though... and easier for me to write, haha~

This will begin next chapter.

Nobody left reviews last chapter and I am sad about this, but I understand if y'all don't want to!


	5. Chapter Four: Compulsions

**[Life Goes On]  
[Chapter Four: Compulsions]**

* * *

Conversations with his Mom were always exhausting; Dean new his Ma' would always react better to constant reassurance than to any form of honesty… in that, they were complete opposites.

Dean had no idea how to talk to her anymore – of course he dreaded it, but talking to her on Friday afternoons while walking home from school was pretty much a ritual. He was pretty sure neither of them would miss the interaction if it didn't happen, but it could surely be used against him in the easiest of ways if he missed even a single weak.

He told her what she wanted to hear while walking along the highway with only minimal awareness of oncoming traffic because there were no sidewalks, occasionally jumping off the uneven pavement to examine whatever unnatural object looked interesting in the forested area a few feet outwards. Dean kept mental notes of where trash was located every so often, just to see how long it took for someone to take it away.

What set off his tick was the beat-down, greenish metro about 350-steps from the largest opening of trees – it'd been there since he'd started school this year, and it had never moved. He knew because he counted the distance in steps at least once a week. He'd taken a few looks inside over the months, not noticing some cars slowing down to judge his own level of criminal activity.

Dean was pretty sure there was a dead person in that car and really confused over why nobody had come to take away a car that had been there for three months. Didn't anybody notice the car sitting under over-grown shrubbery with what had to be a dead person hidden somewhere inside?

He wouldn't fall for their trick.

He did, however, let his mouth slip while examining the lock on the car's trunk. "Look, Ma' – You're in a state hospital – your roommates hate you as much as you hate them, so what do you want me to do about it?"

The cringe covered up some of his Mom's response, which he could literally translate as pure blabbering, something he knew would've been both a scolding and an attempt to joke with him. She kept trying to say something but continued tripping over her words, but he had already cut her off, laughing in feigned amazement. "Jesus, Ma'. You are so fucking stoned."

He'd already fucked up this conversation, so why not take it all the way.

"Yougoing to be home soon?"

"Of course, the doctors say I can leave anytime I want to."

Nothing they didn't both know, but also something she had yet to tell him. She'd explain to him later that she didn't feel _safe_ leaving – that she felt _comfortable_ where she was.

Dean waited for his Mom to catch herself, but wasn't surprised when she said nothing.

"So, are you going to be home for Thanksgiving?"

"We'll see, Dean – you know how things are, right."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah – got to go; I'm at the interstate and nearly die every time I try to cross while I'm on the phone."

It wasn't like he was holding words like "_I love you_" from her; it was just that he really couldn't tell sometimes.

Now… Dean wasn't sure about a lot of things, but there were a few constants that would always come back to him in the middle of the day; rues of life.

The first was something that defined who he was as a person – it happened every moment of every day, even if he could sometimes forget.

There is always something watching.

There weren't any places to go where he wasn't being watched; it was harder for things to watch him in confined areas – to read his thoughts when he was lying low, but they were there. Logically, humans couldn't follow you everywhere – video cameras seemed like an inefficient way of watching someone all the time, but if they were there – it was always in the corners. If there were no corners, it was just… _there_.

When he wandered off into the forest, he was ready for a break from that. Forests were good, because forests were places where things – actual predators – would watch you and hunt you…

Also, the things that watched Dean were too big for the small openings that even he had to slide through to get to the spot he liked – it was a strange little spot, hidden about 15 yards from the road. There was a dumb slab of cement with a random streetlamp sticking out of it. He couldn't figure out why they'd decided to put this décor' up in this one specific spot.

He could tell you some weird shit had probably gone down here, but Dean thought it was cozy.

Dean had tossed his hoodie against a tree the moment his backpack came off; it wasn't a big deal to clear leaves or bugs off it later. His backpack would come with him, though. It usually came with him.

See, Dean was easily distracted, which was a really good thing because there really wasn't a goddamned thing for him to do anywhere else – he and this pole had spent what most would find an uncomfortably large amount of time together. So many injuries had come from this baby, from trying to re-enact Disney's "_I'll Make a Man Out of You_" using his backpack (two concussions and one bleeding skull, if you'd like to see he would proudly show you the scars) to trying to see if he could ever find anything solid enough to bend its metal.

One of his more proud moments was when he'd figured out how to unscrew that weird shaped thing that revealed some of the inner-wiring; while he would indeed think twice before sticking his bare hand into something like that again, he still liked to poke at the innards of electronics with sticks.

Today was a beating day; he had some branches he'd fucked with and carved on until they became long, thick beating sticks and spears for no particular reason aside from the good reason that there was no reason not to – they'd yet to break, but he'd be very surprised if they didn't today.

He had some excess energy.

Excess anger.

It took a long time before the beating of the pole became mindless – his thoughts were stuck on the meeting. On everything. He knew people thought his skipping school was a cry for attention, and it sure as Hell wasn't. Dean knew people could read minds, but somehow they never got his thoughts quite right. Everyone could control him but they didn't know why their methods worked.

Coach hadn't done that yet, for which he was grateful, but he'd probably be convinced to try. If he did… well, Dean actually didn't know what would happen; he knew guys like Seth Rollins, and all of them had too much going for them to get involved in his life.

But all Dean Ambrose wanted was to live and die at his own pace; a two year setback wasn't a big deal in the long run; it wouldn't change where he was going in life. Guys like him were made for military life. Everyone thought he had no plans for his future? No, he had all of them, up until his lonely and lackluster death.

_Of course, someone will have to take care of Mom._

It was that single intrusive thought that led to the stick shattering. He knew where these thoughts were going. He really shouldn't think anymore.

Sticks.

Go find more sticks.

Dean was using the remaining sharpened stick to play the explorer, looking for a fallen branch both large enough and weak enough to make a new beatin' device out of when he found the perfect thing. It hadn't been there last week, but that was cool – a large set of branches had just fallen off a tree. He would have to snap off the smaller sticks growing out of the branches, but he loved this sort of thing. It wasn't nature that calmed him and he knew it because he'd had a doctor ask on multiple occasions, it was just…

He had layers of just how closed off he could get, and obsessing over doing shit like this was as close to an outer layer as he could get to these days.

His attempts were futile.

Maneuvering throughout the fallen branches, Dean heard a crack. He almost missed it, but in moods like this, noticing things is all he was good for. Of course it could've been a part of the branch, but he didn't feel the snap of a twig – it was too different. Lifting his foot, he found a bird. It was long dead, but he'd stepped on a bird nonetheless.

The first thing to do – the first thing not to do? – was to examine it, right? He really shouldn't; he knew he shouldn't, but he just wanted to see what it looked like right now. He hadn't killed it – it wasn't his fault? He could look, right?

Something told him not to, but he did. It took all his self-control to only look. Just look. He managed, and he found the trade-off... see, there was always a trade-off – if you did something bad, you had to do something good. He'd just spent a few minutes staring at a dead bird, twitching and peeling leaves apart the whole time.

As repayment for almost turning it into a science experiment, Dean did touch the bird, but not before digging a hole as a makeshift grave. He even made sure to be careful while moving its corpse to its grave.

He was shaking, but he didn't break it any worse than it had already been.

But he couldn't stop shaking, and he couldn't leave – if he left and he was shaking than whatever it was watching him would notice his twitches and his ticks and he may not get rid of them tonight. He spent time pacing, but that's all he did, up until he was calm enough that he could trust himself with a carving.

Dean got to that point, but life just couldn't leave him well enough alone.

Where there was a bird, there was a nest, and he had just laid eyes on it – he wasn't looking for things anymore, but white and blue wasn't a common color in this sort of area. No longer needing to care about his dirty jeans, he just leaned over to peek at what was inside. He'd never seen the bottom of a bird's nest, but instead of a bottom he found an egg.

_Fuck_.

Egg in hand, he rolled again onto his butt against one of the trees – he had to remember this wasn't the kind of thing you could just toss in the air, but it was heavier than he'd expected, too. The more he examined it, the worse he felt about it.

Soon he had started cleaning it, licking his finger to rub dirt off and repeating the process until the egg was perfectly clean – people called him unsanitary all the time, but he didn't really get it… besides, nurturing was an important part of the birthing process, and it wasn't like he was stupid enough to actually lick the egg straight up.

His hand was practically numb before it was clean to his standards, and he had memorized all the blue speckles of the shell, though he was still trying to figure out the top from the bottom, but could birds get brain-damage? Some birds were pretty fucking stupid so there was a possibility… Whatever.

He'd just find another nest for it, or something. Keep himself busy.

It's possible that Dean had gotten a little too attached in a little too short of time, even for his tastes – he loved animals, but he had made a little spot for it in his shirt because he couldn't trust himself to not toss the fucking thing. He'd made that mistake before, unfortunately…

Dean had his backpack on by the time the real trouble started in the form of constant paranoia. Maybe it was that dead bird – probably the egg's Mother. Maybe she was mad at him for taking her bird.

Probably not, because the logic was the same as it always had been. There wasn't an outside force – or maybe there was, but that outside force didn't even matter because the voices in his head had made the rules loud and clear.

Looking at the egg, Dean walked up to a tree.

The voices had made it clear.

Like a mantra.

_You are incapable of doing more good than bad. _

He'd heard it long enough to accept it as fact, but there were times where he was sure it was as much of a threat as it was a reminder.

Because of that, he found himself holding the egg against his lamp-post like a nail – he covered the top of it and used his other hand as a hammer, splattering shell and whatever was inside against the metal.

He'd let it all dry and clean his hands when he made it home; do laundry because his hoodie was gross and shitty and had drippy bits all over it.

He hoped whatever the things making the rules were appreciated his compliance; that they knew how exhausted and disappointed he was over this – maybe they'd let him and Mister Rollins have a good first week together, because they did not have to push him that far…

That he'd been listening to them this whole time.

After all, Dean just didn't want to admit he had been curious about bird's insides since the moment he'd stepped on one.

Sometimes Dean wondered if there was really anything watching him at all...

* * *

**Author's Note:** I mentioned last chapter that the fic would get darker, and... yeah, okay. I'm not sure if there needs to be trigger warnings or anything?

Reviews are appreciated, and thank you for reading – this was a pretty personal chapter, so… yeh. If you're here for silly babysitting hijinks, that'll begin next chapter.

**EDIT 01/16**: I'm going through all the chapters to make edits and while this chapter probably makes the least amount of sense, it's still the one coming out with the least amount of edits. Dean's narrative is not all that easy to follow.


	6. Chapter Five: A Boy and His Dog

**[Life Goes On]  
****[Chapter Five: A Boy and His Dog - REWRITE]**

* * *

Dean didn't have a whole lot to come home to, but there was always Duke Hozwer.

One of the best things Dean had going for him was a dog; a large, occasionally aggressive Great Dane/Pitbull mix found at the local shelter.

Dean had worked hard to earn the money for him in secret, managing to buy him off only days before the dog was set to get put down. He'd gotten their neighbor, a guy named Regal, to sign the papers, surprising nobody when he came home with the dog only to tell his Mom he had found Duke abandoned on the side of the road.

Not entirely wrong, since he had found him abandoned. His Mom knew the moment he dragged the dog in there was no use arguing – he wasn't the smooth little fucker he thought he was, but she needed to give him some victories in life. God knows he didn't get many.

Just like Dean, Duke looked to have a bit of wear and tear, and just like Dean, he was aggressive towards anyone who attempted to assert dominance.

Roman and Regal had both passed the dog's scrutiny, but Dean had not, instead getting placed into the role of packmate and food gatherer; this gave him quite a bit of authority over the dog, but not enough that he didn't have to share a bed.

As long as his Mom was away, this giant dog would burrow under the fence… it was a bit difficult for him to dig deep enough to get out, but it was the first thing Dean checked when he got home. In fact, he always just hopped his own fence; part of it was to make sure Duke was still there, but the biggest reason was that he'd just leave the backdoor unlocked and never carried a key.

You didn't need one when your dog was territorial and nearing 150 lbs.

His backyard was an alright place, bigger than the actual house, and unkempt to the point a giant tree with giant-ass branches had… actually fallen during a big storm last summer. It was a mess, having taken out a few parts of their left fence with it. Roman had talked about getting Dean to help clear it out, but they'd found it made paintball a bit more fun and just never got around to it.

Mr. Regal have much to say about the line between the two territories blurring as long as they promised to get that fence fixed sometime soon – in return, he'd loan them the tools necessary to chop down a really fucked up tree and maybe a few to go a bit overboard. Dean was pretty excited about the idea – he wasn't one of those '_ooh sharp things'- _losers; it was more about seeing something that big coming falling to pieces.

At this current moment, it was dark and Dean was walking in his front door, instinctively lifting his foot to show Duke the distance to keep while he made his way in. He knew better though; his dog wasn't going to listen for shit until he could set down and separate the bags of food in his arms.

He managed a threatening grunt when Duke knocked a bag over with his nose, pulling him back by his harness. "Back off, asshole. Taco Bell's mine; you'll get yours if you let me eat in peace."

Twenty-four tacos for a two day period; most would say he was excessive, but Dean had to make them last the whole weekend, and these things weren't all that… filling. Or healthy. Four a meal seemed reasonable. He might change that up if he got the munchies.

The introduction of the 12-box was a blessing.

Six tacos later, he was sprawled on the couch, tossing chicken nuggets in random directions just to see his dog work for them. It wasn't long before he was out, Monster Hunters playing in the background. Whatever Dean didn't have in necessities, he could make up for in entertainment… while his Mom had trouble remembering to pay the gas or electricity without his reminders, she would never forget commodities such as satellite television and Netflix. Dean also had access to Roman's gaming consoles while he was away, but no matter what reassurance his half-brother could offer him, he always felt guilty touching things Roman had owned with his own money.

Even without those, he could find ways to entertain himself over the weekends – it was just… lonely? Nah, Dean didn't _get_ lonely. He didn't have the right to be.

Besides, he had Duke.

* * *

Monday morning came with a bit of a shock; a knock at the door woke them both at 8:30, with Duke reacting twice as fast. Within moments, he was running his paws down Dean's bedroom door, barking endlessly to let Dean know that it really was time to wake up now because Duke wanted to play Security.

Dean took his time putting on a shirt, even managed socks before he heard the obnoxious ring of the doorbell.

He gripped the doorknob tightly when he opened the door, only to see Mister Rollins with an annoyed look on his face. "It's almost 9:00, Ambrose. You remember Friday's meeting, right?"

_Friday?_

Suddenly he was aware of what was happening. They were forcing him to go to school. Every single day? No matter what happened...

The frustration at his lapse of memory had nothing on the unbearable knowledge that he was currently cornered. As he did every morning, he asked himself why he was so freaked out about something so simple "Oh, right… Y'sure this is a thing?"

Seth sighed. Not even a word.

"Right, okay. I'll, uh, I'll go and get my shoes on. You'll probably want to wait outside, or you can close the door behind you."

Perhaps Seth didn't hear the heavy suggestion in Dean's voice of _Stay the Fuck Out_, or maybe he was just being ornery.

Seth knew that was the wrong answer the moment he stepped in; he had a kid who didn't want him there and a dog playing straight up off that attitude.

Dean was back in control of himself when he walked out of the livingroom, giving instruction to his teacher as he moved throughout the house. "Duke doesn't like guys very much, but he's harmless. He's just going to give you the sniff-up and usual dog stuff. Reply with the dog stuff."

Seth shook his head, trying not to sound as freaked as he really was. "I... really don't like dogs."

And he liked them less and less by the second; by the time Dean returned and sat down to put on his shoes, Seth had backed himself into the front door and Duke hadn't moved an inch, having succeeded in deterring Seth with barks and teeth alone. "Get him away, Ambrose."

"He's just a dog, Coach." Dean snorted, ignoring the obvious panic in his teacher's voice. "Don't you like dogs? There's that saying that you can't trust anyone a dog doesn't like,"

Seth had stepped forward with hopes of intimidating Duke, but he was the one who ended up pinned against the door, fidgeting by tapping his fingers against the door. "You're its owner s—"

"_His._ His name's Duke Howzer"

"Okay, whatever, just… just get him off!"

Dean stood up. "Don't let him scare you. It's real bad 'cuz dogs sense fear; Duke's gone figured you out.", but he made a show of a half-assed whistle, leading Duke to stop moving and look towards his owner, with Seth held between him and the door.

"Get off him, Duke. He doesn't like you."

The only movement came from Dean, shrugging, and Seth's cringe at the smell of dog breath when the beast snorted. "Looks like he ain't goin' to listen to me, Coach. You gotta make him do it."

Seth could see the dog's bared teeth, suddenly overly-aware that this dog was as tall as he was when on his hind legs. "I swear to God, Ambrose, I am going to get you suspended and call the fuckin' police if this dog touches me!"

"Woah! You're being way over-dramatic, here." Dean flicked his own nose, trying to hide his amusement. "You ever hear how to fight a dog for dominance, Mister Rollins?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry about this, but I was really unhappy with how this chapter came out originally and I had just felt so bad about not updating in so long that I rushed in. Rewriting it makes me a lot more comfortable going forward, though. It doesn't seem like there are many important changes, but there are details.

In fact, I went back and made edits to the whole fic. Nothing worth rereading over. Mostly grammatical, but it made me feel better.

I really hope the chapter is more, uh.. (shit I forgot the word)... uhm... active? Involved and stuff? this way.

I really would appreciate reviews and stuff! Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter Six: But Did You Die?

**[Life Goes On]**  
**[Chapter Six: But Did You Die?]**

* * *

_"I can't believe you seriously tried to bite my dog's nose."_

_"I can't believe you thought that was a funny joke."_

* * *

Much to his surprise, Dean gave what sounded like a heart-felt apology to Seth right before class; this was the second one, and it felt much more realistic than the first. Ambrose was back to that kid who couldn't give eye contact for the life of him, though he guessed that hadn't changed… but there was definitely some kind of equally annoying shift from who he was this morning.

More likely, Seth mused, it was that he just couldn't stand Dean Ambrose.

"-and I haven't really had contact with anything but a dog, so. I mean—"

"Dean?

"Yeah?"

"Get he fuck over it."

Dean shrugged, grateful Mister Rollins shut him up when he did, because if he hadn't he'd say give him information he didn't need or care about and it just wasn't worth it for either of them.

Sometimes Mr. Rollins was okay.

While he was unphased by the outburst, most every seated student watched their teacher slam the door on his way into the halls for a breather. Dean managed to find himself an empty seat in silence, until someone laughed in what might've been awe. "Dude, what the hell did you do?"

"Wha-?"

He couldn't put it into words, but his first mistake of this whole arrangement was engaging in classroom activities. He'd managed so well in the other two.

Ignoring, or probably because of, his being the new kid, he was suddenly bombarded with questions, mostly about how he made Mr. Rollins angry… see, it turns out he'd convinced the Freshman classes he was some really cool, great teacher – and probably person, so they'd never seen him curse at a student unless it was friendly banter. No wonder freshman didn't get why all the older kids shit-talked him.

A twinge of uneasiness struck Dean – these guys weren't going to let him be. All Dean wanted was to get his credits by doing whatever it was he did through lectures; doing the tests and bullshitting some papers.

It wasn't long before the kids grilling him figured out he was a junior who'd gotten pulled back mid-year. While even more questions came his way (most of them pretty on point), Dean got himself comfortable and laid his head down on his desk. There was absolutely no better way to be seen as a something to be overlooked than to be in his position – held back two years and still appear half-asleep. He really liked that dynamic.

Dean knew there were always things watching him – that would never change.

But the only thing that was really standing between him and invisibility was Seth Rollins, but was there really anything he could easily do about that?

* * *

"But did it hurt you in any way?"

"I—What?"

"Okay, I'll repeat the question for you, and I'm going to let you know now there's only one correct answer, so here we go: Did the dog kill you, Seth?"

"Well, obviously not."

For the first time in their ten minute exchange, Principal Helmsley looked up from his computer, giving Seth the barest of acknowledgement… that of a look-over and unimpressed snort. "Then I don't see how this is a problem that concerns me."

"So, what you're saying is… this kid could try to kill me, and I'm still stuck with him? Isn't that a bit fucked up?"

"Seth… you're a smart kid; you should know death and-slash-or resignation would be the only way you'll dig yourself out of this," with a sigh the older man leaned back in his chair, finally deciding to give Seth The Talk that the young teacher had been avoiding for so long. "That, my boy, is how punishments work."

Seth grabbed the chair on the other side of the desk, spinning it around so he could lean forward on it. "Okay, I get that – but how long am I going to be in trouble for one single mistake?"

He automatically regretted the whining tone, because the sheer volume in Hunter's voice was enough to make Seth flinch, "Until you stop lying to my fucking face, for one! You have two options: You work with Ambrose, or you get fired and I'll stop protecting you and your fuck ups!"

"_My_ fuck up? All I did was help hide Orton's relationship with a student? Why am I in so much trouble for that?"

He regretted this immediately. Suddenly the office door had been slammed shut – Seth didn't know how a man of that size moved so fast, but he could and it was terrifying. "I swear to God, Seth! This would be so much easier if you'd just be honest about Randy having 'forwarded' most of those nudes to you-"

"—No way of knowing that!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, everyone involved in this used school e-mail! You're all idiots! Orton got fired and rightfully charged and I let you play innocent as soon as he got caught, saying you only knew about the relationship instead! Are you saying there's more to this that I've missed? Should I dig deeper, Rollins? Those were two totally different students sending e-mails to two totally different teachers!"

Seth didn't make a sound – in a way, his silence said everything.

And suddenly Seth realized it was a miracle he was sitting in that office, crying to Hunter about things he didn't want to have to do at a job he had no right to hold onto..

Hunter had a few stress toys lying around his office. All these stress toys existed for very good reason, but sometimes he broke them… today, Hunter… might have broken a stress toy or two and his desk might have been covered in flour; but the good news was, he was calmer, and he could speak civilly to his idiot nephew. "I was hoping you'd be the one coming to me buried in guilt at some point, but you didn't, so here we are. You owe me for life."

His Uncle had him pinned; the guilt came with getting caught, and Seth suddenly hated that about himself.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Man, sorry for the short chapter, but at least we know why Seth's in trouble in the first place, right? Dude's never had good luck with them nudes.

I'm sorry. I'm terrible at jokes; this is what happens when I joke. I promise we'll get back to angst and relationship building in the next chapter... wait, does this count as angst? Probably.

As always, reviews and thoughts would be heavily appreciated!


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